Sock

Another entry into Box Brown's ouvre of comics about stoned men in search of attention and bodacious women. It's a land of fools and tools, and while it's not a comic where you're supposed to like any of the characters, I do wish they were more developed (yes, even the blitzed ones). Here, again, Brown sends the reader on an empty trip with a one-dimentional misfit dude who I couldn't care less about- it feels like he's experimenting with similar components and
experiences to Charles Forsman's The End of the Fucking World but the
impact just isn't quite there. My own experience of parties is that even the biggest wastoids can bring some substance to their voids, but here we only get the endless abyss. -EF